


Happy Helloween

by miaren



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark, Drug Use, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Parent/Child Incest, Past Abuse, Psychological Torture, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaren/pseuds/miaren
Summary: Successful newspaper journalist Kylo Ren is not having a good day.  He hates Halloween, hates parties, hates trick or treaters, and just wants to spend a quiet evening alone in his deteriorating mansion in Brooklyn.  Things aren't going to go the way he thinks.





	Happy Helloween

**Author's Note:**

> This is dark, depictions of rape, non consensual, torture, past torture and abuse, and psychological manipulation. Rey is not nice. You have been warned!

Trick or Treat?

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2vc8byu)

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=kdvhgj)

I left the party early because Poe and Finn were too drunk, and I didn’t want to be a part of that scene. Poe had driven so I had to walk home by myself. The party was only a few blocks from my house. I live in one of those old-money neighborhoods in Brooklyn where the houses are behind iron fences, and some have rusty gates. Mine is probably one of the less desirable. I inherited it from my grandfather Anakin after he died. It looks a lot like the Amityville horror house with chipping paint and overgrown hedges. The furniture is still the same as it was when he lived there. Most of the rooms are closed up and the furniture still covered with sheets. I survive in one or two rooms and that’s all I need. My writing keeps me occupied. 

Poe had to threaten me to get me to go to the damn party. I lost a bet to him a few weeks ago about how one of my articles would get front page and his wouldn’t. I never paid the cash I owed him, so this was his revenge. Our boss, Amilyn threw it for us. She thought we all needed some time together outside work. Why the hell would anyone want to hang out after work with the people they work with? Its fucking raining and its’ cold as hell and wet leaves keep blowing in my face. The sidewalk is cracked and trips me up occasionally. 

“Fuck!” I curse under my breath as a group of costume clad brats run past me, sloshing water all over my Louboutin shoes. “Little Freaks!” I shout after them, but they ignore me.

Did I mention that I hate Autumn, Halloween, rain, cold, kids, and oh yeah, trick or treaters? By the time I make it home, I’m drenched to the bone, and freezing. I head around to the side of the house to go in by the kitchen door. The front door has been deadbolted for so long I’m not sure it even opens anymore. As I’m reaching into my pocket for my keys, I notice that the door is slightly ajar. Did I forget to lock it? I never forget to lock it. That makes me nervous. If I hate anything more than kids, it’s thieves. Not that there would be anything in this house that anyone would want unless they are a fan of 1960’s memorabilia. 

“Hello?” I call out into the darkness. When I try to flip the kitchen light on, I discover that a fuse is blown or something. I pull my lighter from my pocket and make my way toward the basement stairs. I stop to pull a very large butcher knife out of one of the drawers. I’m not taking any chances. It is Halloween and there are some strange fuckers out tonight. 

My lighter barely illuminates the immense space beyond the basement door. I’ve only been down here once, and that was to set rat traps. I never bothered to see if they caught anything. The stairs are dusty, and I go down as carefully as I can. The last thing I need is to fall and end up with something broken, laying in a dark, dank basement for days, waiting for someone to come and see if I’m dead or alive. That thought makes me shiver. No one would come and check on me. I don’t really have any friends. 

The fuse box looks like it’s original to the house and I’m not sure I should be touching it as wet as I am. I hold the lighter up and try to figure out which one it is, but they all appear to be turned in the right direction. However, as soon as I reach out to touch one of them, a big spark flies out and hits my hand. I drop the knife and my lighter and it goes out somewhere in the floor below me. All I can do is fumble my way back up the steps into the kitchen. I know there are candles somewhere in this God forsaken house. All I have to do is find them and light a couple. I’ll dry off, change into my pajamas, take a couple Percocet’s and drift off into a narcotic induced sleep. When I wake up, I’ll call the electrician and get the mess fixed. I should have done it when I moved in. I should have done a lot of things when I moved in.

I finally manage to locate some candles in the unused dining room on the ornate fireplace with tacky pink tiles. I pick up the two matching candelabra and head back to the kitchen for matches. I keep some of the big ones in a drawer beside the old gas stove since it sometimes needs help to sputter on. When I finally get them lit, I follow my original plan, and head up to my bedroom. I took the one at the top of the stairs on the left. I picked that room for no other reason than it was the quickest one to get to and I wouldn’t have to pull my boxes any farther down the hall. I get dried off, change into some boxer briefs and reach for my laptop. I have enough battery left to do some writing for my next article for the paper. 

A muffled thud from downstairs reminds me of my earlier fear. Maybe there was somebody in my house. My blood starts to run cold as I imagine that whoever it was must have jimmied open the kitchen door and done something to the fuse box. Now the creep was still in my house. I’d dropped the kitchen knife when I lost my lighter in the basement. I took the candelabra and stepped out into the hallway. 

“There isn’t anything here of any worth. You can have whatever you want, just leave me the hell alone. I’m calling the police,” I yelled into the darkness but there was no response.

I don’t carry a cellphone. I hate being that available to anyone. I keep the house phone on so Amylin can call me when she needs to. Sometimes I call my mother, but I don’t use it for anything else. The phone is down in the kitchen. It’s a long way down those stairs. I have no choice. Step by step, I creep down, trying not to make a sound, and keeping the candle light muffled with my hand. I don’t hear anything. I slip into the kitchen and carefully lift the pone off the cradle and listen for a dial tone. Nothing. The phone is dead.

“Fuck,” I mumble, and consider grabbing my car keys off the hook by the door and driving to a hotel. Yeah, drive to a hotel barefoot, in boxer briefs, no shirt and no wallet. So, I do the only thing I can do. I start looking through the house, one room at a time. I go through the dining room and check under the sheets, and behind the curtains, nothing. Then room, by room, I creep, like a villain through my own house, lifting dusty furniture covers, looking in closets, and entering spaces I have never even been in before. I leave the attic. If there is anyone hiding in there, they can stay put. I shove a big armoire from the hallway in front of the attic stairs and go back to bed. I fucking hate attics! I must be imagining things. I’m too wired up to work on my article. I shut off the laptop, pop the pills, and lay down to go to sleep. 

A couple of hours have passed. I’d dosed off, but something wakes me, and I sit upright in my bed, staring at the wind-up alarm clock on the bedside table. I can’t see the numbers, so I reach for the box of matches and light up one of the candles. 

“Trick or treat?”

I jump, dropping the lit match on the carpet. The shiny red toe of a high heel shoe steps on the match and grinds it out. I look up, following the length of a black, stocking clad leg that seems to go on forever, to the hem of a red leather skirt, attached to a low-cut red leather vest. Her face is covered with one of those half mask Mardi Gras things with red feathers sticking out of it. Her chestnut hair is piled up on top of her head in a loose bun. The bitch is holding a gun, and it’s pointed directly at my face. 

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Kylo Ren. I’ve waited so long.” Her little pink tongue darts out to lick her lips, done up in the same shade of red as her dress.  
The voice sounds young. Crazy, fucking fan, must be. I attempt to get up, but she shoves the gun into my chest, and pushes. I lay back down on the bed. I’m about to ask her what she wants when she starts talking again. 

“You were the one that wrote the article that busted my boss’s place for selling drugs. All the girls who worked for Plutt got thrown out on their asses. I was one of them. I don’t like living in the street, Mr. Ren. I’m not a whore. I danced for money because I was trying to pay for college. People like you are so judgmental. You have no idea what you put us through. I’ve been forced to strip at the First Order instead. Last night I got raped by the owner Hux. Have you ever been raped, Mr. Ren? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be held down and have something like that taken away from you? Something that intimate that is supposed to be so good, and just have it twisted like that? Guess what? Your gonna find out what it feels like to have everything taken away from you tonight.”

“Look, that was almost a year ago. My boss sent me to do that piece. I don’t pick the jobs. I just do what I’m told…” I try to protest.

The bitch shoves the gun directly into my groin and twists it around. “Shut up, you stupid wanker. I give zero fucks about your excuses. You wrote it. You did! Now if you wanna keep these sweet boy parts intact you’ll do what I say and keep that pretty mouth shut!”

I lay back down and take a deep breath. Have to stay calm. She’s obviously unstable. Nothing I can do about that, but she’s young, emotional, said I had a pretty mouth. Maybe I can work with this.

She tosses a pair of handcuffs to me and grins. “Put those on big boy and make sure they are good an tight. After you get them on, you’ll find another set attached to the footboard of this wonderfully accommodating iron bed. The slats make it so easy for me to tie you down good. Get those ankles cuffed too.”

I don’t have a choice. I pick up the handcuffs and fasten them around my wrists, then lean over and slip the ones attached to my footboard around my ankles. “Now what?” I ask, shooting her a devilish grin, hoping she doesn’t see through my fake bravado. She does.

Before I can react, her gloved hand backhands me across the mouth so hard I feel my lip split and I can taste blood. Christ this little cunt can hit hard. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face, Ren. This isn’t about you. I’m here to take what I want. When I’m done you’ll be begging me to kill you. I might show you that mercy, or I might just leave you chained up to this bed to rot! Lift your hands over your head!”

I struggle to clear the anger, I have to stay calm. Ok, no more stupid tricks. Comply, look for a weakness and exploit it. After I raise my hands above my head, I hear something click. The bitch had another set of cuffs attached to the headboard and she’s hooked my cuffs to them. I start to get a creeping sense of dread. Maybe this little stripper whore really means to fuck me over.

“What do you want from me?” I shout, trying to pull loose from the restraints. “I’ll give you money. Just tell me what you want!”

She slaps me again. My head reels and I see stars. “I don’t want your fucking money! I want to ruin you! I want to make you feel helpless and terrified. I want to force you to endure what I’ve endured. If you open that mouth again, I’ll cut off your balls, I swear to God!”

I clamp my mouth shut and watch as she moves alongside the bed. She reaches over to the bedside table and picks up a knife. It was the same one I’d taken to the basement earlier. The bitch was hiding in the fucking basement the whole time! I’d searched every God damn room in the house except the basement! 

“You dropped this earlier. Really, Kylo, you should have known better than to touch an old fuse box soaking wet! I expected more of you than that. Of course judging by the way you treated this free house you inherited, I can see that you’re just a lazy piece of shit anyway. So sloppy. You should have stayed at the party. You might have met a nice girl who would have taken you home, fucked you, made you breakfast. Instead you crept back here like the dumb little hermit you are. I don’t get you. Such a handsome man with so much going for you and you’d rather be a fucking recluse.”

She began to drag the blade of the knife up my outer thigh, leaving a thin, red mark. The knife broke the skin in a few places and I watched horrified as the drops of blood, my blood, ran down my thigh. “I don’t think you’ll be needing these,” she smirked, grabbing the leg of my boxer briefs, she ripped the material with the sharp knife, then did the same on the other side. She yanked them from under me and tossed them away. Now I was completely defenseless, chained to my bed, and naked in front of this gun and knife wielding psychopath.

“Do you like it, Kylo,” she purred, putting the blade of the knife against my throat. “Do you like being stripped, vulnerable, scared? Do you want to run away? Go hide in one of these empty rooms full of ghosts? I know why you’re so fucked up. I know all about you. The secrets you don’t want anyone else to know? I know them. I have ways of finding out things that you could never imagine.”

“What are you talking about?” It slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. But thankfully she doesn’t cut off my balls.

“Let’s see if we can trigger some of those awful memories you keep hidden away. PTSD is an awful thing, isn’t it? Those pills you have in your medicine cabinet? The ones you take to keep you calm, keep you sane? Guess what? I replaced them with sugar pills two weeks ago. You’ve been taking placebos! It’s going to be so much fun watching you come apart and panic. Listening to you scream and beg for mercy. I have none to give you Kylo. Get ready to experience it all over again! Only this time, Han Solo won’t be here to save you. It’s just us now, you and me. Shall we get started?”

Oh, Christ how could she have found out about that? How did she know about the pills? I should have guessed something was wrong. The way loud noises startled me, strange people making me nervous. I should have picked up on the strong desire I had to rock in place and bite my nails. It was all coming back, the symptoms, the anxiety, the fear. I yanked on the cuffs, feeling the panic starting to take over. I could never stop it once it started. Oh God, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe! 

“That’s it, baby, just let it wash over you. So liberating to just let go and dive down into the darkness.”

She stood up beside the bed and grabbed a bag off my computer desk. Then she climbed up between my spread legs and dumped the contents of the bag on the bed beside us. I could feel the panic rising inside me as I watched her sorting through the things she’d brought to torture me. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter, nipple clamps, something that looked like medical forceps, lube, and a huge dildo. 

“Don’t do this, please! I’ll give you anything!” I begged, knowing as soon as the words left my mouth that it wasn’t going to do any good. 

“Now just lay still and be a good boy, Ben. If you play nice, this will all be over soon. But if you fight me then I’ll have to hurt you.”

Ben? Nobody knew my real name. Yet she’d known my father’s name. Han Solo. Who was this girl? How did she find out about my past, my secrets? Why was she using that same voice that my older sister had used? How could she have known that? 

“Your sister Bazine, I loved to listen to her stories of how she abused you. What a nut job!” she laughed, reaching for the nipple clamps and holding them in front of my face, snapping and unsnapping them. “That crazy bitch was so detailed! I’m going to enjoy recreating that for you tonight. Oh, by the way, I’ve changed my mind. You can make all the noise you want to. You can scream, cry, beg… you can even call me Bazine if you want to.”

She attached the clamps to my nipples and leaned back to inspect her work. “Maybe I need to make them tighter?” she clamped them down harder and I clenched my jaw, determined not to give her the satisfaction of screaming. 

She leaned back and shook a cigarette from the pack and lit it, then leaned down and exhaled the smoke directly in my face. I hate cigarette smoke. She burst into hysterical laughter when I started to cough and choke on it.

“Now, now Benny. If you’d not been such a tattle tale. You just had to run and tell mommy and daddy that I was smoking, didn’t you? Such a little brat!” She slapped me again and yanked on the nipple clamps. 

I felt like I was falling. I wasn’t in my bed anymore. I was 14 years old again, hanging by my wrists from the attic rafters. My 18-year-old sister Bazine was walking around me with a lit cigarette in her hand. She’d put clothes pins on my nipples and kept tugging on them while I blubbered and bawled like a baby for her to let me go. She just kept circling me like a predator, grinning and flicking ashes at me.

“You were always their favorite, Benny! Stable, sweet, smart, little Ben. He’s going to be a lawyer someday, just like mom, or maybe a writer like dad! Oh, he’s so cute with those big ears and those dimples!” She grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks so hard I thought she was going to pinch them off. “Good boy!” She jammed the lit end of the cigarette into my chest just below my right nipple. I screamed and tried to twist away.

“Don’t cry, Benny. We’re just getting started!” 

“Please, please stop! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t tell!”

“I know you won’t Benny. You won’t have a tongue left to talk with by the time I’m done!” Bazine moved behind me and relit the cigarette. I felt the heat of it against my shoulder blade before the horrible pain when she ground it against me. My throat was raw from screaming and my eyes were burning with tears. Why was she doing this? Why?

“Bazine, please don’t!” I begged.

“I’m not your fucking sister!” another slap so hard I thought I was going to lose consciousness. “Look at me, Kylo!” 

I opened my eyes and it wasn’t Bazine, it was that little stripper, kneeling over me with a lit cigarette. She hadn’t burned me with it. She was just holding it above my chest. I looked down over myself and couldn’t see any new scars. What the hell was happening to me?

“I’m not quite as cruel as her. I just like to smoke. I do have something else in mind for you, though. Remember the cucumber she sodomized you with? I’m a little more practical. I brought lube because I’m nice like that, and I also brought a dildo instead of a vegetable. No use wasting good food on something as twisted as this!”  
I could only watch as she lubed up the dildo and held it in front of me. “Big, isn’t it?”

I turned toward the wall, closing my eyes, I couldn’t relive this again. The minute she tried to shove that thing inside me, it would all come back, and I didn’t want to go back there again. I could smell the dust from the attic, see the light coming in through the small windows in the eaves. She didn’t use anything to lube it up, she just shoved it inside me and watched me as I screamed and struggled against it. Why, Bazine, why did you do it?

“Hey, Kylo, lift up, I need to put this pillow under you.” I didn’t do anything. I just lay there. She huffed and managed to get it under my hips somehow. I felt her lube slicked finger first. At least this little bitch was nice enough to do that. I kept my eyes closed tight and tried to breathe. This will all be over soon, I kept repeating that mantra to myself though I doubted if it were true. 

“Damn, your tight! I would have thought that you’d be stretched out from what she did to you eh? Guess not. Maybe I’ll see if I can fit another finger?”  
She pushed another inside of me and I bit down on my abused lip, causing more coppery blood to flow into my mouth. 

“I think your ready for it. I’ll be nicer than she was, Ben. I promise.”

Ben, Kylo, who was she? Who was I? I wasn’t sure anymore. I kept getting sucked back and forth between my past and the present, not sure which one was worse. I felt the huge thing pressing against me and panicked. I started to thrash in the cuffs, trying to get loose. I was incoherent, screaming Bazine’s name and trying to throw the stripper off me. It didn’t do any good. She gave a good, hard push and the thing was inside me, tearing me apart. She was shoving it in and out, hard, just as hard as Bazine had done. Just as cruel. 

“Take it, Ben, you little shit! Think about this next time you decide to rat me out! I’ll make it much worse. I’ll use a baseball bat and you’ll never be able to sit down again!”

“Oh God, please, please stop, please…” I knew she wouldn’t. 

The stripper left the damn thing inside me and stood up beside the bed. I watched her unbutton her vest, and toss it aside, then slide her skirt down her legs. She was naked underneath except for the thigh high black stockings. She left her heels on and climbed back on top of me. She took my wilted cock in her hand and started to stroke it. I didn’t want to get hard. It was the very last thing I wanted but my body was against me. Just as it had been back then, 20 years ago.

Bazine knelt in front of me, she took my cock into her mouth and started to suck on it. I’d never had a blowjob. I’d never had a girl even kiss or touch me. I wanted her to stop. I needed to get away, but she wasn’t letting up. I got hard. Despite it all, I got hard. 

“Gonna fuck you, Benny! Let’s see if you can cum for me!”

She untied my wrists and I fell on the attic floor, but my hands were still cuffed. When I tried to crawl away she shoved me over on my back and lowered herself down on my cock.

“God, Kylo! Your so fucking huge! I can see why Bazine said you split her apart. Shit, even when you were only 14! I wish I could have been there to watch!”

I opened my eyes and stared up at the stripper. Her small breasts were bouncing away as she rode me. It felt horrible and incredible at the same time. My body was going to do what it wanted despite the terror I was feeling. I could feel it cycling up, I was close, so close…

“Benny! Cum for me. Cum inside me! I’ll tell mom and dad you were so good! I’ll tell them you nutted in me!” 

I couldn’t help it. I did cum inside her. I came inside both of them. I hated it and loved it. It frightened me and exhilarated me. Bazine had scarred me so badly that I’d not been with another woman sexually since that day in the attic when I was 14. It had been 20 years since then. This stripper had made me cum the same, awful way my lunatic sister had. But dad had walked in and yanked her off me. She went away to live with Uncle Luke and Aunt Shira but I had to stay home and live with myself and what she’d done to me. Pills and doctors and counselors and time alone. None if it had helped me much. I learned to shove it down. I learned to suppress it.

“Yeah, that’s right, Kylo Ren. Give it to me. Give it to me just like you gave it to her. Do you know what happened after they sent her away? She was pregnant you know? She had a baby girl, but she was so unstable they took the baby away and sent her to foster care. She grew up in so many awful places. She had to learn to fend for herself since mommy was too fucked up and the precious Solo family couldn’t bear to acknowledge a child of incest. But she found me finally, when I was 16. She found me and told me everything. She told me how her own family pushed her away because of it, because of me. Guess what, you get to acknowledge me now, Daddy! Maybe I’ll even get pregnant like she did!”

She climbed off me and stood grinning down at me. She pulled the mask off and I got a good look at her. Same eyes as Bazine, same mouth, but my height, my dimples, my daughter? How could it be? I’d never known and now she’d just… Oh God.

I turned to the side of the bed and threw up. She laughed and picked up a bottle of something from the bedside table. She used one of my t-shirts and drenched it with whatever was in the bottle, then pressed it to my nose and mouth. I didn’t even struggle. I just let the toxic smelling fluid put me to sleep. The last thing I heard before I passed out was the sound of cuffs being unlatched and the feel of my limp hands dropping to the pillow.

“Goodnight, Daddy. I’ll see you around!”  
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